Halloween 2026: September 24th

Teenage Sex & Death at Camp Miasma (2026)

The golden age of the slasher movie was short-lived. By 1984, over-saturation had been reached, the style was burnt out, and Jason Voorhees was dead. They kept making them. They'll keep making them forever, because something about the subgenre seems to imprint on every subsequent generation of horror fans. Which is to say: It's been four decades since "Halloween" and "Friday the 13th" lit the fire, and three since "Scream" popularly deconstructed it, and people are still finding things to say about these movies. Whether the irony-enriched eighties slasher regurgitation premise is totally played out or not is irrelevant. A certain breed of filmmaker will keep thinking about it. Deeply personal reflections on media seems to be Jane Schoenbrun's thing. "We Are All Going to the World's Fair" and "I Saw the TV Glow" were the director's post-mortems on getting too deep into the internet and substituting real life experiences with television, respectively. Now "Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma" has this extremely distinctive voice considering the often-considered camp slasher framework. 

"Camp Miasma" was a popular eighties slasher film. It concerned Little Death, a transgender revenant wearing an air vent on their head and wielding a spear. The killer regularly rose from a lake to massacre the people at the summer camp next door. The original was a hit and beget a long line of sequels, until the premise was thoroughly run into the ground. Now, up-and-coming filmmaker Kris Williams has been contacted to pitch a reboot. Kris knows the studio singled her out because she's queer and they are hopeful she can untangle the "Camp Miasma" series from its problematic origins. She genuinely loves the films though. In particular, she's enamored of Billy Presley, the star of the original film that has since disappeared from public life. Kris tracks Billy down at her home, which turns out to be the camp grounds where the first movie was shot. Billy has a deep connection to "Camp Miasma" as well. Her and Kris explore what the film means to them, and their own sexuality, until the border between reality and fiction are totally blurred. 

The impression I got from Jane Schoenbrun's previous films is that they put a lot of themselves into the protagonists. A young person losing connection to reality as they go deeper into an internet rabbit hole and a pop culture-obsessed, deeply closeted loner perhaps represented dark "what-ifs" for the auteur. "Camp Miasma" is Schoenbrun's most personal work yet. By which I mean, Kris Williams definitely seems to be a self-insert for the director. Hannah Einbinder is even made up to look a bit like Schoenbrun. The plot thread of Kris being asked to make a "woke" reboot of a transphobic summer camp slasher, specifically because of their queer identity, makes me think Schoenbrun got asked to reboot "Sleepaway Camp" at some point. (Both that film and its beloved-by-me sequel are mentioned by name.) That must be weird, being offered a job only because your identity lines up with the murderous villain's. If "Camp Miasma" is a reflection of the director's feelings, Schoenbrun has little respect for typical Hollywood smoozers. Kris' agent and the execs are obsessed with meaningless buzz words like "origin story" and "elevated." While the "Queer Assistant" present is depicted as utterly apathetic. If brainless industry people are a target of the story, the script doesn't spare its protagonist either. Kris' past films that "explore queerness as monstrous otherness" and her obsessive film fandom are treated as immature defense mechanisms, to cover up real insecurities she feels about herself and sex. When asked to talk about herself, Kris talks about her films instead. As if that's all there is to her, as if cinema is more real than reality.

And maybe it is, at least for these characters. The film leans on the surreal borderland between the real and the imagined early on. As soon as Kris arrives at the camp, elaborate matte paintings are being used to create a sense of cinematic dreaminess. The brand names of junk food are highlighted, as if to the emphasize the importance of shiny, disposable commercial products to these people. Dipping sauce for chicken fingers is sensually lingered on, only the first of many scenes connecting food and sex. This is because, as the title indicates, this movie is almost entirely about sex. That's why the killer is Little Death, why they penetrate with a spear, and why they strikes as their victims are on the verge of orgasmic rapture. Some of these symbolic touches are obvious, even trite. But this is ultimately a film about how the pop culture we consume gives us the words to express our desires, our fantasies. The shadow play of the movies are absorbed as erotic nightmares, through which we can then describe our own thoughts and feelings. If the amount of Jason-themed erotica I've seen is any indication, Kris is far from the only person whose sexual awakening was entwined with an old horror movie. Finding sensual satisfaction from watching naked, stereotyped teenagers get killed is acknowledged as #Problematic but, the film seems to say, our fantasies tend to be a little fucked-up. That's why they only exist in dreams and on the big screen. 

It's an interesting, highly personal re-contextualization of the slasher concept.  Schoenbrun has said that the film is as much about learning to enjoy sex after transitioning as it is riffing on Jason movies. I exist in too cis of a head-space to, perhaps, understand that element. A sequence where Kris talks about watching a horror movie and wanting to be the fleeing bimbo on the screen is pretty obviously important. The symbolism of the spiraling, interlocking lines of Little Death's vent mask were a little lost on me. I'm sure someone with a degree in Gender Studies would have something to say about the discussion around the role watching and being watched, being both within and outside the body during sex, plays in the film. 

I don't know much about that kind of thing. What I do know lots about is eighties slasher movies. The opening credits depict a litany of poster art, VHS boxes, Fright Flicks-style trading cards, merchandise, and industry articles about the long-running series. Clearly, Schoenbrun is as faithful to the marketing aesthetic of the “Friday the 13th” series as they were to the look and feel of nineties television in “I Saw the TV Glow.” The first glimpses we get at the “Camp Miasma” films, a sequence where Billy is humping with her male co-star when Little Death is reflected in her eye, is striking. When we finally get an extended look at the film-within-the-film, the results are dishearteningly not as faithful. As much as the film draws specific cues from “Sleepaway Camp” or “Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter,” the characters within the film are never less than utterly cartoonish. Including a female stoner with a huge mohawk, which feels a bit anachronistic for the early eighties. The sequence grows more exaggerated as it goes on, with every kill being followed by a massive geyser of blood. It is, simply put, quite bad, playing less like the creation of a loyal fan of the genre and more like a shitty “Saturday Night Live” sketch or something. The filmmaker clearly knew what the films they were paying homage to looked and felt like, so I can only assume that these moments of obnoxiously dumb parody are intentional. 

Moments this grating are especially baffling when other parts of the movie work so well. The filmmaker remains especially talented at unexpected needle drops, especially when pairing them with unexpectedly lyrical violence. The cinematography and visuals are interesting throughout.  Hannah Einbinder gives a thoughtful performance as Kris. Gillian Anderson adopts a kind of silly country twang as Billy, which takes some getting used to. However, she has fine chemistry with Einbinder and the acting choices eventually win me over. In other words, “Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma” is messy, too self-aware at times, and doubtlessly self-indulgent. At first, I was disappointed in it. As far as recent self-aware “Friday the 13th” homages go, I preferred “In a Violent Nature.” However, thinking about it, the film captivated me for its entire runtime and transported me. I suspect I will think about it a lot more in the future. [7/10]

Cry of the Banshee (1970)

You can get a good sense of the shifts the horror genre went through as the sixties became the seventies by looking at Vincent Price's career. The previous decade was defined by the classy chills of the Poe Cycle. Ten years later, his trademark films were about mad villains seeking elaborate, often gory revenge on those who wronged him. The transitional film between these two styles was, of course, the intense and violent "Witchfinder General." American International Pictures would attempt to replicate that one's success a few times. Most directly with 1970's "Cry of the Banshee." It was Price's 100th film and that would normally be a cause for celebration. Unfortunately, he hated making the movie, often citing it as one of the least favorite of his career. His relationship with AIP and Sam Z. Arkoff was on the skids at the time, no doubt contributing to Price's ire towards the film. All of this makes "Cry of the Banshee," despite its low standing in its star's career, something of the end of an era. It is often cited as Price's last gothic horror film, which is close enough to the truth. 

Lord Whitman is a rich magistrate, his grand manner overlooking a simple village. He is obsessed with stamping out the local witch community. Alongside his two sons and henchman Bully Boy, he often raids and terrorizes sabbaths and rituals. One such coven is led by a witch named Oona, who places a curse on the Whitman family in retaliation. An otherworldly spirit takes over the body of Roderick, the servant boy that both Whitman's daughter and wife are sleeping with. The supernatural activity increases: The eerie howl of a banshee is heard outside the castle at night. A demonic black dog begins to attack the locals. An inhuman beast prowls the grounds. Both Lady Patricia and Maureen Whitman have visions of madness. The Lord only increases his witch-hunting shenanigans in response to these events, seeking out Oona to end the curse.

Scholars of folk horror, or at least the people who made that long-ass documentary on the subject, refer to the three films that kicked off the modern iteration of the subgenre as the Unholy Trinity: 1968's "Witchfinder General," 1971's "Blood on Satan's Claws" and "The Wicker Man." "Cry of the Banshee" represents something of the bridge between those first two titles. It's a blatant imitation of Michael Reeves' film, featuring Vincent Price again in period garb and performing medieval torture on supposed witches. There's a branding, some stocks, a burning at the stake, and a spin on the breaking wheel. There's also some rape and coerced confessions. The rebellious witches frolic in nature with flowers in their hair, clearly drawing parallels to the hippy movement. The end credits go so far as to separate the cast into two opposing groups, the Witches and "The Establishment." "Blood on Satan's Claws" was going for more of a Manson family vibe than a flower power angle but both movies clearly look to the witch hunts of the past as a way to comment generational conflict of the early seventies.

Unfortunately, “Cry of the Banshees” seems uncertain about which side of this conflict we should root for. Now, obviously Lord Whitman and his raping, torturing cohorts are vile people who deserve our scorn. His wife and daughter, meanwhile, are largely innocent bystanders caught up in things. While the film certainly focuses on the cruelty of the witchhunters, it also takes place in a world where witchcraft is real and dark, magical powers do exist. This muddles the waters a bit. It's also simply another symptom of the film's inability to focus on one idea for too long at all. “Cry of the Banshee” has entirely too many characters, few of them being that distinct from one another or memorable. Forgive me if I couldn't always recall which of these guys is Whitman's evil son and which is merely his evil henchman. At one point, a random grave robber wanders into the story to drop some key information before wandering back out. The nature of the supernatural threat changes often too. The movie cycles through witchy curses, a black-coated demon dog, and an off-screen unearthly shriek before finally deciding on becoming a werewolf movie in the last third. It's all over-the-place, unfocused, and often hard to follow.

That doesn't leave the viewer much to enjoy. The interrogation and execution sequences lack the brutality and indignation of “Witchhunter General's” similar scenes. None of the film's other horrors are that intriguing. “Cry of the Banshee” was filmed at W.S. Gilbert's manor and that's a cool location. There's some okay use of shadow and colors. The glimpses we get of the werewolf make it look like a moldy-faced gorilla costume, making the choice to keep it to the shadows likely for the best. Price might not have thought much of the project but he is still doing his best to make it entertaining. There's a cool shot of him dressed like Henry VIII in that famous portrait. He doesn't play the character as only a cold-blooded villain, allowing the lord to show his fondness for his family and his steadfast belief in his own, wicked quest. Mostly, Price is at his campy best when showing wide-eyed panic and fear. Also, he gets to wield a blunderbust in a few scenes and that's fun too. 

“Cry of the Banshee” exists in two versions. Director Gordon Hessler's original cut runs 91 minutes long, features an animated opening credits sequence from Terry Gilliam, and a score by Wilfred Josephs. Before releasing the movie domestically, A.I.P cut out most of the nudity and some of the violence in order to receive a GP rating, taking the runtime down to 87 minutes. They also ditched the animated opening and had Les Baxter compose a new score. (AIP also slapped Edgar Allen Poe's name all over the posters, utilizing the same trick that turn “Witchfinder General” into “The Conqueror Worm” by briefly including some lines from one of Poe's poems – in this case, “The Bells” – at the beginning.) Neither cut of the movie features a banshee at all. Which is kind of disappointing. That would be a cool, underutilized monster to built a film around. While the director's cut is a slight improvement over the U.S. edit, “Cry of the Banshee” is subpar in any version. Vincent Price's theatrical vamping has elevated middling material before but this one mostly feels reheated from superior work. Also, the devil dog looks a little like my dog, presumably because all black German Shepherd mixes kind of look the same. [5/10] 

The Ray Bradbury Theater: A Sound of Thunder

It’s probably the most famous of Ray Bradbury’s short stories, to the point that it would eventually receive a (very bad) feature film adaptation. The premise, of dinosaurs and time travel from a futuristic society, are also quite ambitious. That’s probably why the low-budget “Ray Bradbury Theater” didn’t adapt it until the third season. For those who don’t know, “A Sound of Thunder” begins in a sci-fi future, where time travel has become common technology. Following an election where a fascist dictator nearly became President, big game hunter Eckels heads into the offices of Time Safari Inc. He pays an exorbitant cost to go back in time to the Mesozoic and hunt a T-Rex. His guide Travis gives him strict rules to follow: He must stay aboard a floating platform and can only kill animals already destined to die. Any other disturbance to the environment may have horrifying effects on the future... Rules that Eckels inevitably breaks. 

I honestly don’t know how famous Bradbury’s story is among people who don’t read science fiction. However, the central twist the story leads up to – that seemingly the most inconsequential of changes in the past can unknowingly have enormous effects on the future – has long since entered common knowledge. Bradbury’s story isn’t the origin of the term the butterfly effect but is often mistaken as such, because Ray also used a mere Lepidoptera as the symbol of how little things can set off chain reactions with massive consequences. Unfortunately, this has the downside of making any adaptation of “A Sound of Thunder” leading to a foregone conclusion. The minute the story introduces the idea of a strict set of rules that must be follow in the past, it’s only a matter of time before they are broken and birth a strange new future. 

If anything, I think the future that the death of one butterfly 65 million years ago sets off might be too similar to the one already established. The future the cast arrives in at the end isn’t that different from the one they left. It’s effectively the same except for two key changes: Language and writing is kind of fucked-up and the heavily foreshadowed crypto-fascist running for president has won, birthing an era of American Nazism. (Something that, ya know, could never happen.) Anything more elaborate than that was also probably outside the show’s budget. It’s also faithful to Bradbury’s story, likely because he wrote the script himself. Still, more extreme changes would probably be a better, more surprising illustration of simply how much that little butterfly – a species that really does date back to the Cretaceous – actually did matter to history. 

Then again, maybe Ray accidentally predicating the butterfly effect isn’t the point of the story so much. “A Sound of Thunder” is mostly a simple tale of hubris. Its big game hunter goes in search of dinosaurs because he believes he’s killed every dangerous creature alive. The sight of the tyrant lizard king, however, sends him into a panic. It turns out there is something bigger than himself and the idea terrifies him, leading to his downfall. I’m always happy to see shitty hunter types get what’s coming to them. Kiel Martin plays Eckles as properly haughty and then spineless, a good contrast to the ice cold but fearless take John Bach provides to his guide. The idea is simple: History shows again and again how nature points out the folly of man. A focus on that moral over what ends up happening would’ve resulted in a more satisfying pay-off, I think. Or perhaps that’s simply my familiarity with the source material and this episode featuring a mediocre animatronic dinosaur influencing my opinion. Still a better take on the story than the 2005 movie. [6/10]

Friday the 13th: The Series: Vanity's Mirror

Mirrors are objects loaded with symbolism, certainly when it comes to the topic of vanity, which makes it unsurprising that “Friday the 13th: The Series” would devote an episode to one. This one begins with a ragamuffin flower vendor attempting to convince the guy in a nice suit that buys roses from her every day to love her. When that doesn’t work, she reflects light from a compact in his eyes, magically inducing a powerful infatuation. This has deadly consequences. In the aftermath, homely high school student Helen Mackie picks up the compact. She quickly deduces its magical mechanics. She uses it to make the jocko friends of her sister’s handsome boyfriend – who, of course, Helen has a crush on – fall in love with her. And this show being what it is, all of those sudden love spells result in death too. When Micki showing up at the girl’s door is unsuccessful, Ryan goes undercover as a high school student to find out more. 

Auditioning for the part of an “ugly” girl, only to win the role, must be demoralizing for an actor. That unfortunately sets up what is the rather fucked moral of “Vanity’s Mirror.” The script never considers that unfair social pressures placed on young women to make themselves stand up to an impossible beauty standard might deserve any blame for this situation. The woman in the first scene is simply a villain. Helen is not much more sympathetic. A few hours after figuring out how the mirror works, she is already callously engineering the gruesome death of somebody. She becomes fully ruthless right after that, never once being shocked or unsettled by the violence she is reaping. The unusually down-beat end of the episode is similarly pitiless to the girl. This one ends without any sense of “justice” being served and seems to come to the conclusion of “Well, some people are just ugly, inside and out, and there’s nothing we can do about it.” 

I, for one, do not agree with this. I believe it’s cartoonishly unfair to a sixteen year old girl to turn her into a remorseless serial killer and then off her in such a callous way, for the crime of being “ugly.” Whatever happened to the idea of beauty being subjective? Let’s not take the side of the high school bullies here. I get that “Friday the 13th: The Series” only has forty-five minutes to tell its story and is, on the best of days, still a fairly dumb or silly show. However, this one left me feeling depressed in a decidedly un-satisfying fashion. Using demonically infused mundane objects to make someone fall in love with you is bad, as “Obsession” already hammered into our heads this season. But, I dunno, maybe making a young girl with an ungainly nose and some acme into a serial killer simply because she has a crush on her sister’s boyfriend is kind of shitty. 

Outside of all of that, I suppose this episode has one or two moments. The instantly recognizable Zack Ward – not exactly a traditionally handsome fella himself and the episode doesn’t shit on his looks – appears as the first of Helen’s victims. His demise occurs off-screen but, by the standards of broadcast television in the eighties, is still quite gruesome. The second death is bloody too. Nebulous as its connection to Jason’s rampages was, this show was definitely doing its best to bring some Hollywood style gore to the small screen. However, the plot point of Ryan going undercover as a teenager is laughable. Moreover, he spends a large fraction of this episode unconscious on a floor. In fact, I’m pretty sure this is an episode of “Friday the 13th” where the Curious Goods crew have almost no effect on the plot at all. I guess Jack does save the sister from an unfortunate death trap but, otherwise, all of these events would have played out in the exact same manner without their involvement. Odd episode. [5/10]

OSCARS 2026: Jurassic World Rebirth (2025)

Let us consider the following. "Jurassic World" made one billion and 671 million dollars at the worldwide box office, suggesting it was an extremely popular film. Critically, it holds a 72% "Fresh" rating on Rotten Tomatoes. Rotten Tomatoes is a broken website for many reasons but we can presume that the general consensus on "World" is that it was generally well received. The sequel was also a box office bonanza, making one billion and 308 million dollars. However, the press was much harsher towards "Fallen Kingdom," which currently resides at only 47% positive. The trend continued with "Jurassic World Dominion," which cracked a paltry one billion dollars worldwide while receiving the worst reviews yet, topping out at a putrid 29% on Rotten Tomatoes. 

 

People say these movies are critic proof and perhaps they are. However, I can't imagine that Universal execs didn't notice that the more negative reviews seemed to correlate to slightly less massive box office. Perhaps seeking a fresh perspective, a new director would board the series for the fourth or seventh entry. Gareth Edwards, already experienced with saurian CGI mayhem from directing 2014's "Godzilla," would take the wheel with "Jurassic World Rebirth." The generically subtitled follow-up wouldn't truly change much, reaction wise. "Rebirth" fell just short of making Universal another billy but still grossed a Dreadnoughtus sized amount of money. Critical reception, meanwhile, concluded this is merely the least shitty follow-up. I've enjoyed all the "Jurassic World" movies, presumably because I have no taste, so I went into "Rebirth" with few ideas as to what my reaction might be. 

It turns out Earth's current climate and the hyper-industrial era are hostile to dinosaurs. "Rebirth" sees all the thunder lizards unleashed on the world in "Dominion" mostly going extinct again. The prehistoric creatures only survive in the balmiest areas of the globe, human travel outlawed in these regions. Pharmaceutical corporation ParkerGenix needs genetic material from three of the biggest dinosaur species – the aquatic Mosasaur, the land-dwelling Titanosaurus, and the airborne Quetzalcoatlus – to perfect a heart disease killing drug. Mercenary Zora Bennett is promised an absurd amount of money to lead the extremely dangerous mission to retrieve these resources. Paleontologist Henry Loomis and old friend Duncan Kincad accompany Zora on this journey. They travel to Île Saint-Hubert, the now abandoned Caribbean island where InGen kept the mutated dinosaurs too ugly to display in the main park. Along the way, the team picks up a family – fisherman Reuben, his daughters Teresa and Isabella, and Teresa's boyfriend Xavier – stranded by a Mosasaur attack. The boat is taken out by hostile dinos as they approach the island, making an already perilous adventure riskier. Zora and the others try to survive, grab what they need, and make a last minute escape as the island reveals more deadly dino secrets. 

Universal invited David Koepp, writer of the original and most beloved film in this franchise, back to pen "Jurassic World Rebirth." He is given sole credit for the script but it's fairly obvious that "Rebirth" was actually written by committee. On-screen titles explain the current state of this dinosaur-infested world, before the cast repeats this information in laborious expositionary dialogue. The main dramatic conflict of each principal character is also explained in broad conversations early on in the film. Zora is traumatized by the death of her partner and missing the funeral of her mom. Duncan reveals a ruined marriage and deceased child in his back story during the same talk. Reuban is unimpressed with Xavier, who will prove his worthiness throughout this journey. There's never any doubt about which members of the party will become dinosaur chow. Do you think the overly confident big game hunter, Ruby Rose-like crew member, French speaking mechanic, and cartoonishly evil Big Pharma stooge have much chance of making it to the end? 

Scarlett Johansson smiles big and looks pretty in a role that otherwise asks very little of her. The rest of the cast play their roles with the cartoon simplicity demanded of the meager script. Likewise, the origin story of the latest biggest, baddest threat to grace the series feels like something that would appear in a low-effort cartoon series. Koepp attempts to cook a bigger theme into the story, about personal responsibility in making the world a better place when profit-hungry mega-corps rule everything. This results in a handful of dialogue exchanges, the most climatic of which being the most flatly and obviously stated. Every element of "Jurassic World Rebirth's" narrative was designed so that even the most clueless rubes in the audience – or folks dispassionately watching while scrolling TikTok – can follow what is happening. 

"Rebirth" does deserve credit for not going out of its way to remind viewers of the original film. This is not a "legacy sequel" burdened with shout-outs to the older, better movies. In fact, the latest "Jurassic World" most reminds me of something else entirely: Video games, specifically classic survival-horror titles. There's a clear check list of objectives for the heroes to achieve, gathering DNA from three of the dinosaur species. The successfully filled capsules float down towards the characters like power-ups falling from the sky. The cast progresses through different settings and scenarios, as if they are playing through levels. Each location contains their own environmental gimmicks: Shooting a monster from the deck of a speeding boat, repelling down a mountain side, crawling through subterranean tunnels. Different threats are found in each location, with the T-Rex wading through the river area and the massive pterosaur occupying the cliff side. Locations like an ancient temple, a rickety gas station, and an abandoned lab filled with tubes occupied by deformed fetuses are the kind of areas you'd expect to navigate with a controller. There are puzzles for the heroes to unravel too, such as freeing a vessel from an elevated wench or opening a locked gate. A box of flares might as well have a green arrow floating overtop it. Scarlett Johansson crawling around and shooting dinosaurs truly reminded me of playing "Dino Crisis," while the last act features a monstrous final boss worthy of a "Resident Evil" title. 

The impression "Jurassic World Rebirth" gives is of a risks-free blockbuster rushed through production by a studio needing to fill a summer release slot. Gareth Edwards has already proven he can make a movie like this and is fine with producer-mandated reshoots too. The execs wanted a cute, Baby Yoda-like mascot character they could sell toys of and so an adorable dinosaur sidekick meets up with the cast's youngest member. The script was written not to express a natural story but to get thrill-hungry viewers from one exciting set piece to the next. It is the definition of what Martin Scorsese called "theme park" movies. 

Maybe that is the lowest goal film can aspire to as an artform but I, for one, enjoy a good theme park ride. And "Jurassic World Rebirth" does provide those kinds of thrills. The family trying to escape the mosasaurs as their boat is wrecked is an intense thriller. The race with the same sea monsters, as ScarJo hangs perilously off the side of the boat, is extremely well engineered. The Quetzalcoatlus is a formidable and unique threat, the mountainside location making for a dynamically executed sequence. Hiding from the snapping, winged raptors in a grungy convenience store presses all the right buttons to engineer suspense. The highlight of the film involves the T-Rex stalking the Delgados through a riverbed, including a fantastic shot of the massive predator's jaws pressing through the material of an inflatable raft or squeezing its head between gaps in a rock wall. Edwards manages to bring along some of the grandeur he showed-up off in "Godzilla" too. The sequence devoted to the enormous Titanosaurs, with their coiling and whip-like tails, is a properly sweet moment of peace in the middle of the film. The Distortis Rex – the latest example of the Hollywood kaiju phenotype – shows the same fantastic sense of scale and misty awe-and-terror Edwards displayed in his previous monster movies. 

I must conclude that "Jurassic World Rebirth" is, unquestionably a corporate product. It is designed to raise shareholders' stock value, to do nothing but distract audiences enough that they go to the theater and pay for tickets. It is meant to further the value of the "Jurassic" brand in the public consciousness and to keep fans flocking to the merchandise and theme parks. Whether that means the definition of whatever the internet has decided is "slop" today is up to debate, I suppose. I prefer the term "schlock," which is far more affectionate. "Rebirth" is definitely schlock and, as far as the value of what I paid for my ticket goes, I believe it is schlock that gave me money's worth. Maybe I truly do have no taste. Perhaps I am but a simple soul that only needs to see some dinosaurs ripping shit up on-screen to be satisfied. The script is weak and the characters are flat but the special effects are excellent, the thrills come fast, and it is all delivered in a smooth package that keeps the dino-action coming at a fast enough clip. [6/10]

RECENT WATCHES: Kong: Return to the Jungle (2007)

That “Kong: The Animated Series,” a largely forgotten and deeply mediocre cartoon, got a sequel movie four years after it ended is surprising. That it received two seems irrational. Yet it is true. In fall of 2006, a special extended edition of Peter Jackson's “King Kong” was released on DVD. BKN International took the opportunity to ride those coattails one more time and see if they could squeeze a little more blood out of this particular stone. While “Kong: King of Atlantis” was practically indistinguishable from the TV show that spawned it, the second follow-up is notable for an all together different reason. “Kong: Return to the Jungle” would ditch the serviceable, if bland, traditional animation of the show for what the DVD cover refers to as “state-of-the-art CGI.” I don't think anyone will be surprised to learn that statement is misleading, to say the least.  

“Return to the Jungle” goes back to Kong Island and reintroduces us to “The Animated Series'” heroes: teenage adventurer Jason Jensen, his genius scientist grandmother, comic relief buddy Tann, island shaman girl Lua, and the giant gorilla Kong that connects all of them. Their peaceful existence is interrupted when arch-nemesis Ramon De La Porta returns. He leads a big-game hunter named Stag Hunter to the island. Hunter has built a high-tech zoo in Manhattan and intends to populate it with Kong, the dinosaurs, and other extinct megafauna that populate the island. It's all a scheme to unleash the animals on the city, so Stag can hunt them for sport and De La Porta can take the fall. Jason and his pals head to NYC to save their hairy friend from the unhinged hunter and a military eager to protect the city. 

By 2007, CGI was well established as the primary animation format for feature films. Maybe this is why the “Kong” producers decided to go this route. However, within minutes, it's clear that the budget was not available to realize this vision. At least one Letterboxd review compares the film's appearance to a PlayStation 2 game, which I think is really unfair to the PS2. “Return to the Jungle” is, simply, one of the ugliest movies I've ever seen. The models are shiny, their movements stiff and weightless. Characters seem to frequently float through the air. Any time someone interacts with another person or the environment, the two simply don't seem to occupy the same space. This results in action scenes where characters limply flop around against each other. The facial expressions are robotic and gap-mouthed. The colors are flat, the environments lacking details. At one point, the animators used pixelated photographs and literal GIFs in lieu of art design. On more than one occasion, backgrounds can clearly be seen glitching out. But that implies that the entire movie doesn't look like one long glitch...

Even if “Kong: Return to the Jungle” had fantastic writing, it would be impossible to overlook how hideous the animation is. Of course, the movie doesn't have a decent script. I can't believe I'm saying this but I don't think this cartoon respects the lore of “Kong: The Animated Series.” Despite ending the show in a vegetative state, Professor De La Porta returns without any explanation here. He showed nothing but contempt for Kong and the Jensens in the show but seems to have a begrudging respect for them now. Originally, Lua had an independent and often stubborn personality. Here, she's nothing but a fawning female lead, going along with everything the boys offer. Jason's grandmother becomes another totally subservient female figure, baking pies for the guys and dropping exposition. None of the show's other extensive mythology, like the Primal Stones or the island's history, are mentioned. I didn't think “Kong: The Animated Series” had an especially deep or well thought-out cast of characters or plotting. Somehow, “Return to the Jungle” dumbs down what was already a middling, shallow cartoon show.

Part of why “Kong: Return ot the Jungle” comes off as so didactic is because the dialogue is loaded down with exposition. In addition to simplifying already flat characters, “Return to the Jungle” goes out of its way to explain who everyone is and what their deal is. The first half-hour of this 78 minute movie is largely devoted to explaining Kong and Jason's background. That the giant gorilla is a clone of an original Kong, though seemingly not the original Kong from the 1933 movie. That Jason shares his DNA with him, that this allows the two to magically connect. The script is burdened with “As you know” dialogue, such as the repeated references to Lua being the island's shaman or Tann being the son of a billionaire. While “Kong: The Animated Series” occasionally featured an environmental message, “Return to the Jungle” really hammers home this moral about respecting wild life. Making the villain such a cartoonishly evil animal hater defangs a message that kids probably do need to hear. 

Making the previous “Kong: The Animated Series” movie a musical was incredibly distracting, not to mention embarrassing. “Return to the Jungle” kind of maintains this change, though it finds a compromise of sorts. There are three original songs in the movie but they simply play over action scenes. The heroes don't burst into song and dance, thankfully. The first song, which introduces Kong's status as king of the jungle, is even kind of catchy. The second number, played during a painfully animated flashback to Jason and the gorilla's childhood, isn't great but was tolerable. The third song, however, played when our heroes are running around New York City, made my teeth clench pretty hard. All things considered, I really don't understand the desire to make songs such a big part of an action movie about a giant gorilla. 

I'll give “Kong: Return to the Jungle” positive notices for one element: The movie returns to “King Kong” tradition by having the gorilla rampage through New York City and fight a T-Rex, something “The Animated Series” downplayed. In fact, the movie makes the Tyrannosaurus Rex Kong's biggest enemy. All things considered though, “Return to the Jungle” is extremely dire slop only suitable for the most undiscerning child audiences. In the department of computer generated hemorrhoids, it avoids being as eye-scorchingly hideous as “Rapsittie Street Kids” or those weird, low budget Christian cartoons... But just barely. It's hard to be too down on a movie clearly made with so little resources, by so few people. (IMDb only lists forty people in the entire credits.) I suspect the entire movie was rushed through production in a few months. Yet there's no way around how deeply uncomfortable it is to look at this thing. When paired with a totally half-assed script, it makes “Kong: Return to the Jungle” an intensely unpleasant viewing experience. [2/10]

RECENT WATCHES: Kong: King of Atlantis (2005)

King Kong might be one of the original giant monster movie stars. Yet, in the modern era, the enormous gorilla has too often been a second banana. The 1998 American remake of “Godzilla” was a disappointment, critically and financially. The blockbuster would, at least in the hearts of kaiju devotees, be outshined by a Saturday morning cartoon spin-off. “Godzilla: The Series” was popular enough that someone decided to cash-in. European animation company BKN International – perhaps better known as Bohbot Entertainment to old millennials like me – would create a competing cartoon based on King Kong. “Kong: The Animated Series'” original run last from 2000 to 2001, totaling forty episodes. The series would even, for a short while, air on the same network as “Godzilla: The Series.”

Much like the previous “King Kong” cartoon, “Kong: The Animated Series” took very little from the original films. The series followed a modern day clone of the original big gorilla, made by a scientist named Dr. Jenkins. The ape shares a bond, and some DNA, with her grandson, Jason. After a villain attempts to capture the gorilla, Dr. Jenkins moves him to the remote Kong Island. (I guess the name “Skull Island” was too gruesome for the kiddy crowd.) Now a teenager, Jason arrives on the island with his best friend, the meat-headed pilot Tann. There, Jason, Kong, Tann, and jungle girl Lua have a number of adventures. 

The show mostly turned King Kong into a standard action cartoon hero. Through a device called the Cyber-Link, Jason and Kong can combine into a shared consciousness. A villain named De La Porta seeks the power of the Primal Stones, thirteen magical MacGuffins linked to the history of Kong Island. He grabbed his own Cyber-Link, fusing with different animals, in other to give Kong an anthromorphized creature to grapple with in every episode. The show invented a convoluted backstory linking Kong to the lost continent of Atlantis and an evil god named Chiros, the ultimate antagonist of the entire series. A whole litany of mystical plot devices, shamanism, mythologies from all around the world, and even time travel get involved eventually. 

Despite all the ideas floating around inside it, “Kong: The Animated Series” was an extremely mediocre cartoon. The animation was bland, the character designs deeply uninspired. The ensemble never rose above being shallow cartoon archetypes. The voice cast – largely made up of familiar performers like Scott McNeil and David Kaye – did not contributed especially memorable work. Most episodes don't even take advantage of what we associated with “King Kong,” the giant ape rarely fighting dinosaurs or rampaging through cities. Instead, it had a standard structure of our heroes travelling around the world, usually foiling the same villain every week. Compared to the grotesque enemy monsters of “Godzilla: The Series,” the antagonistic beasties here are completely forgettable. I watched all forty episodes on Tubi and I've endured much shittier cartoon shows. However, “Kong: The Animated Series” has rightly been consigned to the dust bin of animation history. 

Why am I bringing this up? In 2005, King Kong would return to theater screens in the big budget and much anticipated remake from Peter Jackson. Hoping to cash-in on the hype, “Kong; The Animated Series” would find its way back onto TV around this time. Yet the coattail riding did not end there. BKN decided to resurrect the show for a short, hour long, direct-to-video movie. Two weeks before Jackson's “Kong” roared into multiplexes everywhere, “Kong: King of Atlantis” would shuffle onto video store shelves. Ignored by most, the cartoon's technical inclusion as part of the “Kong” legacy made me morbidly curious enough to give it a look.

“King of Atlantis” takes place after “The Animated Series,” though it doesn't reference any of the show's events. (In fact, I'm pretty sure it contradicts some of them.) A strange eclipse is beginning above Kong Island, worrying Lua and making Kong antsy. Jason and Tann notice strange things around the island, such as a tar pit seemingly springing to life. Soon, it becomes apparent that evil, reptilian Atlanteans emerge from an alternate timeline. They take Kong back to their world, where the evil Queen Reptilla intends on brainwashing the big ape. Jason, Tann, and Lua follow behind and team up with the local rebels, in order to save Kong and stop the evil queen.

Though it was made four years later, “King of Atlantis” basically feels like a double-length episode of “Kong: The Animated Series.” The movie does little to distinguish itself from the show that birthed it. The quality of the animation is slightly higher than the average episode. They throw in a cave bear sidekick to follow the heroes around that wasn't present in the show. This is totally standard stuff. The sci-fi setting is equal parts generic and slapped together, mixing together many different types of aliens with little coherence. The evil queen is a stock-parts villain and her sycophant henchman – literally named Scyophantis – is annoying. Jason and Lua's sexual tension carries over from the show to uninspired results. Tann becomes attached to the Amazonian leader of the rebels, in a totally last minute subplot. Kong fights some cyborg dinosaur critters after spending most of the movie moping and being bossed around by the bad guys. 

It's not much to write about. While “Kong: The Animated Series” at least didn't talk down to the viewers with obvious moral lessons, the movie does include one. Jason and Lua can't agree throughout most of the film and their bickering alienates Kong. It's only after everyone works together that everything turns out okay. How is this message communicated to the viewer? Through something that the series definitely didn't include: Musical numbers! Yes, “Kong: King of Atlantis” is somehow the second direct-to-video, animated “King Kong” musical. Let me tell you, the songs here make me pine for the lyricism of “The Mighty Kong.” The lyrics are deeply inane, the melodies annoying. Each time the characters burst into song, I felt a full body cringe come over me. Moreover, there's absolutely no reason for these songs to be included. The show never featured any singing. Why does the movie? 

In other words, “Kong: King of Atlantis” is only for the most obsessive of Kong Kompletest. With the exception of those shitty songs, it's really no worst than any two episodes of “Kong: The Animated Series.” It is also, I must point out, also no better than any episode of the series. Much like the show it's attached to, “King of Atlantis” is a project that little effort was expended on. The writing is kids show slop. The animation is unambitious. The characters and acting are lacking in any memorable personality. Unless you are really desperate to see a giant gorilla wrestle some monsters, and have exhausted all other options, there's zero reason to seek this out. I wish I could say something pithy like “But at least there's no singing and dancing” but, inexplicably, there is. You have my permission to keep doing what you were going to do with this movie anyway and ignore its existence. [4/10]

Halloween 2023: October 19th

Funny Games (1997)

If you've been a film nerd long enough, and especially if you're a fan of the dark and macabre genres, there's probably a few titles you've sworn off. Movies you've decided you're never going to watch, either because there's someone you can't stand in it or the director is a piece of shit. Maybe you object to the content or tone on some sort of moral or personal level. Maybe there are films that want to show you things you're just not interested in seeing. I've got a few of those, usually because they contain animals being killed on-screen or they sound insufferable to me. But I finally watched “Cannibal Holocaust” after years of saying I never would, so clearly my vows are worth nothing. Another film on my “never gonna watch it” list is “Funny Games,” largely because everything I read about it sounded deeply unappealing to me. Yet, if there's any time of year for me to challenge my own presumption, it's October. So here I go.

Married couple, Anna and Georg, travel to their vacation home with their young son, Georgie. As they arrive at their house on the lake, they notice something strange going on with their neighbors, who have visitors they don't recognize. Later that day, a young man named Peter knocks on their door, asking to borrow some eggs. He overstays his welcome, dropping the family phone in the sink. His friend, Paul, appears before beating the family dog to death with one of Georg's golf clubs. This begins a series of sadistic games the two boys play with the family, holding them captive in their own home, psychologically and physically torturing them. 

“Funny Games” begins with shots of the car driving through the countryside, while Anna places CDs of classical music in the car radio and has her husband guess the artist. This proceeds the opening titles playing alongside some blaring, obnoxious noise rock. It's an attack on the audience, a deliberate attempt to confront us. This might as well be a mission statement for “Funny Games.” The film is purposely constructed to frustrate viewer's expectations. Paul and Peter show up and impose on the family's home, in such a way that feels like they are imposing on us. Anytime the family seems like they might be close to escaping this nightmare, the young psychopaths always reappear. In the final act, Anna's last chance at survival is denied when the killers toss the knife she's cutting herself free with in the lake. The most blatant moment of directly denying the viewer any sort of catharsis occurs when Anna manages to wrestle a gun away from her captive and blows Peter away.... Before Paul grabs the TV remote and rewinds the scenario, reverting the film back to before this moment and making sure it doesn't happen. 

Moreover, writer/director Michael Haneke wants us, the viewer, to know that he knows he's pissing us off. Repeatedly, “Funny Games” breaks the fourth wall. Peter winks at the camera before he starts his violence. He directly addresses the audience, asking us who we're rooting for. The film concludes with the boys discussing the nature of reality and fiction. The intent is clear: Haneke is implementing the audience in the film's violence. These horrible things wouldn't be happening if we weren't watching. It's our fault. This raises the question of why we are watching this. Haneke denies us any sort of vicarious thrill from his film. All the violence and sexual menacing takes place off-screen. We're given all the torment of going through this horrible experience with Anna and Georg but none of the elements that draw us towards movies like these. This essentially makes “Funny Games” a movie that punishes the viewer for wanting to watch it in the first place. 

If you're reading this review, you probably know all this stuff anyway. It's the main thing everyone knows about “Funny Games.” Haneke's intent with the film have been endlessly discussed and turned over in the 26 years since its release. The director has made it all too clear that his hatred of cinematic violence, of deriving entertainment from others' sufferings, is what motivated him to make “Funny Games.” The question we should really be asking about “Funny Games” is: Does it work? Does the film's peevish denial and intentional baiting of the audience force us to reconsider our relationship to cinematic violence? I don't agree with Haneke's thesis. I don't think there's anything wrong with enjoying movie violence, strictly because it's not real. Films exists for a lot of reasons and to explore scenarios that we shouldn't do in real life is one of them. 

Moreover, I don't think “Funny Games” is an especially biting deconstruction of horror films or thrillers. There is largely because it's not actually devoid of entertainment value. There are, in fact, people out there who just enjoy “Funny Games” as a mind-fuck and a sadistic exercise in home invasion horror. Years later, films like “The Strangers” or “Ils” would take many of Haneke's techniques and ditch all the pretensions. This is probably because “Funny Games” can hit like a bomb sometimes. By only allowing us to hear the violent acts, not see them, the film often makes their impact harder. The pure callousness of the villains are often chilling, especially when they are actively fucking with their victims. Such as when they rattle off a number of fake origin stories for their actions in quick successions. It's a bit like what Truffaut said about war movies. You can't deconstruct our relationship with cinematic violence without making that cinematic violence compelling.

If I have any real issue with “Funny Games,” it's that I think Michael Haneke is full of shit. I don't think he actually dislikes movie violence. His movies are, in fact, often sadistic and miserable experiences. There are long, drawn-out sequence here were we watch people cry and blubber. If you watched “Amour,” you get the impression that Haneke likes exposing us to suffering. The off-handed way Peter and Paul murder their victims are too precisely constructed, too self-aware in their own cleverness, for the audience not to realize Haneke enjoyed composing them. The direction and visual composition is precise, full of long distance shots of people in landscapes or standing still. One could make the case that all of these points makes “Funny Games” a self-defeating exercise. 

And yet, I can't wholly dismiss “Funny Games” as pretentious clap-trap. As self-satisfied and smug as the movie is, you can't say that it isn't interesting. The film going out of its way to make us question our relationship with cinematic violence is something. As much as Haneke professes to hate movies like this, he's not bad at making them. In the aftermath of the torture horror genre's brief popularity in America, he would even make the movie again in English, almost precisely copying the original. Which strikes me as a far more pointless exercise. Ultimately, as pompous as “Funny Games” is – I didn't even get into the way the film indicts the media, with the killers referring to themselves by various pop culture duos or a TV screen being present in several shots – there is something here. It's a frustratingly fascinating movie, that begs us to hate it but is too well done not to intrigue in some regards. I think I'm going right back to watching violent movies though. [6/10]

The Beast of Hollow Mountain (1956)

Willis O'Brien's stop-motion work on “King Kong” revolutionized special effects, essentially birthing the blockbuster as we think of it and inspiring a legion of artists for decades to come. Yet, in his life time, O'Brien rarely got the respect he deserved. There's actually a well known cause for this. O'Brien was offered a special Academy Award for his work on “Kong,” as a category for special effects didn't exist yet. He would only accept the statue if his entire team received one too. This offer was refused and O'Brien became an outcast in Hollywood. This effected his ability to get projects completed. Specifically, he tried for years to get a movie about cowboys fighting dinosaurs made with little success. One attempt to get a story O'Brien called “Valley of the Mists” made mutated into a totally different script called “The Beast of Hollow Mountain.” O'Brien wouldn't even end up doing the dinosaur effects for the movie, his passion project essentially being passed on to a totally different crew. 

American cowboy Jimmy comes to Mexico to start a cattle ranch. While searching for some lost cows, he comes across a secluded area that the locals say is cursed. Hollow Mountain is surrounded by quicksand pits and there are reports of a monster. Jimmy attempts to get his business going, beginning a romance with Sarita, the daughter of a prominent don, and making a rival of her presumed suitor, Enrique. Jimmy also befriends Panchito, the son of the town drunk. When his father disappears near Hollow Mountain, it's the first sign that the Beast of Hollow Mountain – a ravenous T-Rex that has survived into the modern day – is getting ready to attack the town. It's up to Jimmy to stop the monster.

If “The Beast of Hollow Mountain” can be described as a dinosaur movie/western hybrid, the ratio is definitely skewed towards the western stuff. This, unfortunately, does not mean shoot-outs, rodeos, or horse chases. Instead, “The Beast of Hollow Mountain” is preoccupied with utterly tedious western-adjacent melodrama. Far more time than is advisable is focused on the love triangle between Jimmy, Enrique, and Sarita. Much of the plot is motivated by the business side of running a cattle farm and Enrique's attempts to sabotage it. The focus on Panchito causes me to assume that “The Beast of Hollow Mountain” was aiming strictly for the kiddie matinee market... Yet I can't imagine a child being entertained by such a dull story as this. The dinosaur really feels like an afterthought on a plot much more concerned with a lifeless love story and the realities of cattle ranching. 

“The Beast of Hollow Mountain” was filmed in CinemaScope and bright Deluxe color. You'd think this would be because director Edward Nassour was hoping to showcase some wide, cinematic vistas or picturesque Mexican countryside. Not so much! Much of “The Beast of Hollow Mountain” is set in the indistinct village or surrounding swamp, the titular mountain only appearing in a few scenes. Instead, the focus is squarely on the characters. None of whom are all that compelling. Guy Madison – presumably filming this during a hiatus in “The Adventures of Wild Bill” – plays Jimmy as a standard white hero, distinguished only by his need to insert himself into every situation in this small town. He never has much chemistry with Patrica Medina as the girl. Eduardo Noriega is a thinly defined, cartoonish bad guy. Mario Navarro is quite annoying as Panchito, while his dad is an unfortunate cultural stereotype that is played totally straight. 

In other words, the experience of watching “The Beast of Hollow Mountain” is waiting around for the dinosaur to finally show up. And you will wait, as the T-Rex doesn't actually do anything until an hour into this 77 minute motion picture. The dinosaur first appears as a pair of rubbery feet stomping along the ground, before the full stop-motion creature is unceremoniously revealed. The special effects are definitely not up to the standard of Willis O'Brien. The dinosaur's movements are quite stiff and jerky at times. He certainly has none of the personality that any of the saurians in “King Kong” had. Yet the film still perks up considerably once the T-Rex appears. The finale, where Madison is roping the Rex and swinging over the quicksand pit, is the only time this sleepy movie comes alive. 

“The Beast of Hollow Mountain” was a regular feature on horror host shows for years. The copy I watched was introduced by Count Gore de Vol. Somehow, it didn't show up on “Mystery Science Theater 3000” until the Netflix seasons. I guess my point is that this film has been disappointing monster kids and dino-fans for decades. Especially since the idea of cowboys versus dinosaurs should be a slam dunk. Eventually, Ray Harryhausen would realize O'Brien's vision for “The Valley of the Mists” as “The Valley of Gwangi," a much superior movie in every way to this one. Only a far too-little, too-late appearance from the T-Rex justifies this one's existence. [5/10]

The Outer Limits (1995): A Stitch in Time

Once again, I return to the nineties version of “The Outer Limits” in foolish hope that I've finally found an episode with some degree of subtly. “A Stitch in Time” is about FBI Agent Jamie Pratt who, years before, apprehended the serial killer who murdered her best friend. Now she is involved in a far more baffling crime. Bullets and fingerprints link a series of murders, all of men who performed violent or sexual crimes against women, to one person: Physicist and inventor Dr. Theresa Givens. The problem is Givens was a child when most of the murders occurred and they've been going on for decades. Pratt soon begins to suspect why that is. Givens has invented a machine that allows her to travel through time and has been using it to punish misogynist men before they commit their crimes. As Givens alters time, she is the only person aware of the changes happening and it's causing her health to deteriorate. As Pratt investigates, she is pulled into Givens' end game: To destroy the man that abused her as a child. 

“A Stitch in Time” reveals in its opening minutes that Givens is the murderer and that she's using time travel to pull the crimes off. So this isn't an episode about “who” but more about the effects of these actions. The episode is most interesting when focusing on the altering time lines. We see the changes occur after Givens performs each murder, the evidence Pratt is investigating – and even the fate of her friend – changing around her with each shift. The inevitable question this raises, about causality and paradoxes, come to a head in the final act. That's when Givens goes back to her own childhood, Pratt tagging along. That finale is fairly tense and easily the highlight of the episode, utilizing a classical stand-off set-up for a easy suspense. 

Unfortunately, “A Stitch in Time” is undermined by this program's trademark bluntness. This is obviously a half-hour about justice and the crimes women face on a daily basis. The question of whether it's right to punish a crime that hasn't been committed yet is directly posed. Meanwhile, the episode repeatedly raises the idea that men do terrible things to women and the effect it has on their mental health. It all leads to a somewhat patronizing final twist, that suggests all women are victims just a few troubles away from becoming killers. Amanda Plummer won an Emmy for her performance here as Givens. Plummer is talented but she is given some truly awful dialogue here, mostly given a wooden and overly dramatic performance. There is a pretty cool shot of someone passing through the time portal and into the past. Otherwise, this is a typically overcooked episode of a program enamored of exploring high-minded ideas through sci-fi set-ups. [5/10]

China Lake (1983)

Robert Harmon feels like one of those filmmakers who never got the career he deserved. “The Hitcher” is a stone-cold classic but few of his other films have ever gotten much notice. He's spent the last two decades making TV movies and cop shows starring Tom Selleck. This is surprising, as his debut short film – and an obvious precursor to “The Hitcher” – had a clear ACAB subtext. “China Lake” stars Charles Napier as a California highway patrolman named Donnelly. While on vacation from his official job, he drives out to the isolated China Lake area, where he idles his days away terrorizing travelers and killing anyone who offends his particular sensibilities. 

Before becoming a director, Harmon worked as a D.P. on cult classics like “Tourist Trap,” “Hell Night,” and “Fade to Black.” (And also “Nocturna” and “Roller Boogie.”) You can see this sharp eye on display in “China Lake.” The flat landscape of the Californian desert is well utilized, establishing a sense of isolation. Napier is frequently framed from low angles, making him look like the huge master of this domain. As he would in “The Hitcher,” there's several shots from a speeding vehicles point-of-view. Contrasting these fast-moving, close-up angles with the scenes focused on the wide shots of the environment creates an unpredictable feeling. We can anticipate the violence to come but we always feel unprepared for it. The dessert is beautiful – especially when Harmon films it at dawn, the sun breaking over the blue night – but it's also dangerous. An ideal setting for a horror story.

Playing corrupt figures of authorities was what Charles Napier specialized in. That talent is put to excellent use here. He has a charming smile and a sense of calm around him, which makes you feel tempted to trust him. Yet there's always an edge of uneasiness to every interaction Napier has in this film. The movie begins with an extended scene of him harassing a woman on the highway, which feels like an all-too plausible abuse of power. Later, he has a conversation with a waitress in a dinner, the audience left in suspense as we wait for his inevitable violent reaction. The peeks we get inside this unassuming but intimidating man's head gives us a look at his violent, unhinged imagination. It's a thoroughly unsettling depiction of a psychopath with a badge.

And that's perhaps what is most chilling about “China Lake.” The first scene focuses on the tedium of police work, before moving to its desert setting. The ending brings Donnelly back into this orderly scene, suggesting that he happily goes back and forth from being a public servant and being a psychopathic killer. The implication – that it's easy for a madman to find work as a cop – feels as unnervingly relevant now as it must've in 1983. The way the film is so casual about what its villain protagonist does, which is reflected in the precise editing and pulsating soundtrack, makes it clear how a position of power appeals to men like this. Thoroughly unsettling and fantastically assembled, “China Lake” is a gem. This is essential viewing for fans of “The Hitcher” and proof that movie wasn't a fluke on Harmon's behalf. Remind me to re-watch “Highwaymen” next year... [9/10]